


Domestic Drabble Collection

by Nour386



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-06-24 06:58:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15625236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nour386/pseuds/Nour386
Summary: a bunch of drabble requests I posted on tumblr, reposted here. Enjoy some fluff.





	1. Booked Purchase

“Grunkle Ford, what about this one?” Mabel asked. She pointed a surprisingly thick book on the art of knitting at her uncle. “It’s on sale!” she added, voice filled with glittery hope.

 

“Don’t bother yourself with that one, Mabel. From what I’ve seen, it’s more of a scam than the Mystery Shack,” Ford said, taking the book from his niece and putting it back on the shelf.

 

“Aw. Dipper said the reviews for that book were really good,” Mabel pouted. She looked to her side as she tried to recall her brother’s word. Perhaps she misheard him.

 

“Remember the reviews for the shack that you showed me?” Ford asked, kneeling down to Mabel’s height to place his hand on her shoulder.

 

“You mean the ones that Soos wrote?” Mabel said. She looked up to her uncle.

 

“Exactly. He used multiple aliases in order to make it seem as though numerous people had enjoyed their trip.” Ford said with a knowing grin. “The author who wrote that book most likely attempted the same trick.”

 

Mabel gave an understanding yet disappointed nod. “Mm, there’s gotta be a good book to help me expand my craft here somewhere,” she said looking around. “And Finder Mabel is just the book investigator to find it!” she said, pulling out a bubble pipe from her sleeve before leading the charge in her investigation. 

 

Meanwhile, a very different scene was playing out a few bookshelves away. Dipper was quickly looking down at his phone and back up to the shelves around him. Suspicion raised his brow a good halfway up his head as he continued to walk down the aisle. “I know it’s around here somewhere,” he said, looking back down at his phone screen. “The ‘Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons’ home page says that the latest rule book comes out today . ”

 

“Maybe the clerk out front sent us to the wrong place , ” Stanley said, in between flipping several books with the accursed ‘DD&MD’ logo on their spine away from his nephew’s gaze. He was thanking Moses and whoever else was up there for his nephew’s insistence on checking his phone. Those were the few moments where he could hide the books from him. 

 

“Why check in you know. Come in another day?” Stan asked, through an awkward cough. 

 

“I wanted to see the special 36th edition rule book,” Dipper groaned, turning back up the aisle. “Maybe I missed it,” he said, opening an image of the book’s cover on his phone. Stan sighed once again as he carefully followed his nephew through the aisle.

 

“At least now he won’t find any of them , ” he thought — just as Dipper came rushing towards him with the one copy that Stan had forgotten to hide. “Fuck,” he swore to himself as Dipper tried to mimic his sister’s 100-watt smile.

 

Stan could feel his defenses weaken as he he looked between the book and his nephew’s face. Placing a slightly sweaty hand on the back of his neck, Stan reached out and took the shrink-wrapped book from Dipper’s hands. “So this is the guy , eh?” he asked. His eyes scanned the front cover, an army of fantasy characters stared back at him. “You sure about this?”

 

“What do you mean?” Dipper asked. 

 

“Well, you and Ford are used to playing with your normal nerd rules. Why would ya wanna learn a whole new set?” Stan asked, feeling the weight of the book in his hand. “You could knock a man out with this thing. How much do you think they changed or threw away?”

 

“I heard they made it more beginner friendly,” Dipper said.

 

“Exactly. You wouldn’t want some schmuck like me ruinin’ ‘your fun now would you?” Stan asked. A victorious grin spread across his face. 

 

“But I was looking forward to playing with you and Mabel,” Dipper said in a small voice.

 

‘ _Maybe be a little early to be_ _celebrating,_ ’ Stan thought before kneeling down. “You gotta point kid. But when you get this thing, you’re gonna have to put aside your old game for this one. You know it’s here. So you can ‘round come and grab it any time. Why not enjoy a few more games with your Uncle playing by your nerdier rules before going all beginner friendly with me and Mabel,” Stan said, placing a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. 

 

“But—”

 

“We’ve waited this long. We can wait a little longer , ” he promised.

 

Dipper was about to reply when a ruckus in the store cut him off.

 

“I need to get Waddles a new pig carrier!” Mabel cried, running out of the store with her great-uncle in tow.

 

“We’re gonna have to put a pin on this,” Stan said as he got up. He returned the book to a nearby shelf and followed Dipper as he ran after his sister.

 

Taking his own pace, Stanley took his phone out of his pocket and quickly typed up a message before running after his family.

 

_ ‘Was buying the books in advance still such a good idea?’ _ Ford’s phone buzzed.


	2. Fiddauthor - In-laws visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10\. In-laws visit.  
> I forget who requested this drabble. but have fun with a Fiddauthor fic!  
> It kind of ended up becoming a coming out fic. so heads up to that.

Fiddleford coughed awkwardly. Stanford had run into the kitchen once again to grab some other snack or treat he forgot during one of his other trips. His mother, Mariam, sat unamused on the couch next to Fiddleford. Her tarot cards were spread on the second seat.

 

“How’s the weather down in Jersey?” Fiddleford asked. He pulled at his shirt collar.

 

“It’s fine.” she replied. She didn’t look up from her cards. Her free hand stirred the tea that Stanford had spent more than ten minutes brewing.

 

“We don't normally get tropical weather like you do near the coast,” Fiddleford continued. His leg bounced quickly. 

 

“It isn’t tropical, just painfully hot and windy,” Mariam said. She flipped over a card, revealing a pair of people standing beneath an angel.

 

“Ah, I see,” Fiddleford said. He took an awkward sip of his tea. 

 

“He’s hiding from me isn’t he?” Mariam said after a beat. Underneath the earlier card she had placed two cards, one with nine wands and another with four. Both were placed upside down.    
  
“He might be?” Fiddleford replied. “He can be a little, and please excuse me when I say this, scatterbrained when he’s stressed.”

 

“I’m well aware,” Mariam said flatly. She downed the rest of her tea before standing up. 

 

“I’m sure he’ll be back any moment now,” Fiddleford said. He stood up as well, trying to block the older woman’s path.

 

“Fiddleford, right?” Mariam asked. She rested the back of her hand on her hip. 

 

“Yes Ma’am?”

 

“If you really cared about my son you’d let me talk with him.”

 

“No use delaying the inevitable is there?” Fiddleford sighed. He stepped to the side.

 

“This was bound to happen some time,” Mariam said. She took a step forward before Fiddleford stopped her once more.

 

“Let me get him,” Fiddleford said. “He’d feel better facing whatever you have to say with me by his side.”

 

Mariam watched as Fiddleford marched into the kitchen, his hand slipped into his pocket as he passed through the door frame. With a heavy sigh Mariam walked back to her seat. She crossed her legs over one another and reached for a biscuit. It was stale. She could hear some hushed words being spoken in the next room. But despite her best efforts she couldn’t hear what was being said.

 

Stanford walked into the living room, hand-in-hand with Fiddleford and sat down on the empty couch. Their fingers were laced together, and Mariam took note of the gold bands on Ford’s ring and first pinky finger. 

Stanford took several deep breaths before looking to his mother. “Ma, this is Fiddleford McGucket, my- my. I marri-You see he and I-” 

 

“We’re married,” Fiddleford interrupted. He squeezed Stanford’s hand while pointing a brave face at Mariam.

 

“I see, and how long has this been going for?” Mariam asked. She raised a single eyebrow.

 

“I-three?” Stanford said. He looked at Fiddleford with a questioning look. “Three years right?”

 

“Three and a half,” Fiddleford’s smile was gentle as he gave Stanford’s hand another squeeze. 

 

“Mm,” Mariam’s face fell. Stanford looked the same way he did when he had gotten a less than perfect score on his tests. Like a prisoner steeling himself before having to face a firing squad. Trying to hold back a set of tears that his reddened eyes failed to hide. 

 

“Stanford, take a breath,” Mariam said. She had stood up and played a hand on her son’s shoulder. An action that made the man flinch at first. “You took big step just now. And for that I’m proud of you.”

 

Stanford gave a quivering sigh. 

 

“I’d make a jab about not sending me an invite to your wedding, but knowing your father that might have been for the best,” Mariam said. She gave a Stanford’s shoulder a small squeeze before kneeling down to hug him.

 

“You’re not upset?” Stanford sobbed. Fiddleford reached out and hugged his husband as well.

 

“About the wedding? A bit. About you finding someone that you’ve kept with for 3 years? I couldn’t be prouder.” She offered her son a warm smile before walking back to her seat. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to find out more about my new son-in-law.”


	3. Pinescone - The Correct way to organise dishes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabel drops by her brother's place for a visit. and leaves a headache in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again I lost track of who requested this, so sorry about that. either way. enjoy some nerds.

“Mabel what are you doing?” Dipper asked, walking into the kitchen.

 

“Organising your dishes,” Mabel said flatly, as though there was no more obvious thing in the world. She was surrounded by what could only be described as a rainbow of tableware.

 

“I noticed,” Dipper said, his voice cracked. “Why are they all over the floor?” 

 

“Because I couldn't find anything that went together,” Mabel replied.

 

“What are you on about?” Dipper asked.

 

“I’m not going to eat on mismatched plates and cups Dipper,” Mabel said cheerfully. “What am I? Some kind of fashion disaster?”

 

“No, you’re apparently a filing system nightmare,” Dipper said, rubbing his temples. 

 

“It’s not that bad,” Mabel said rolling her eyes.

 

“You put the cups in the middle of the stack,” Dipper said, aggressively pointing at the current stack of cutlery with his entire hand.

 

“Pssh. It’s fine,” Mabel said rolling her eyes.

 

“I’m not dealing with this,” Dipper said walking out of the room.

 

Hardly a moment passed before Wirt’s head popped through the door frame. “So I heard you were committing filling system crimes.”  he said with a mischievous smirk.

* * *

 

Several hours later Dipper was getting himself ready for some late night cereal snacking. Or, as he called it , ‘Din-fast’. He walked over to the cupboard next to the stove and reached for a bowl, only to feel cold ceramic against his fingers instead of the expected plastic. “Wait , what?” Dipper muttered. 

 

He squatted down and looked into the cupboard. And then instantly walked into the living room where he could hear Wirt trying to stifle a laugh. “What did you do?” Dipper demanded.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Wirt said, lying poorly.

 

"Don't you give me that," Dipper said, grabbing Wirt's arm. He ignored the 'woah' his husband gave as he was dragged to the kitchen.

 

"Why is this all blue?" Dipper asked, pointing at the cupboard he left open. Inside was an assortment of bowls, cups and plates of different materials and shapes, all stacked on top of one another in such a precarious manner that Dipper was surprised he hadn't knocked it over when he first reached inside. 

 

"Oh, that? Just a little sorting is all."

 

"A little sorting? The only thing tying these things together is colour," Dipper said.

 

"And doesn't it look pretty?" Wirt asked.

 

"I can't believe this," Dipper said putting his face in his hands. "I had the perfect system."

 

"Oh dear, I wonder what kind of person would do such a thing," Wirt replied innocently.

 

"A heathen who doesn't know anything about the correct way to organise dishes. That's who." Dipper sulked.

 

"That's not what you said in your vows," Wirt teased.

 

"And you never said anything about joining forces with Mabel to tear me down in yours either," Dipper said pointedly. 

 

"Oh well, maybe you can teach me this 'correct way’," Wirt said.

 

"And how can I trust you after what you did?" Dipper asked, turning away dramatically.

 

"Because I couldn't think of a better way to spend the evening," Wirt said, planting a kiss on Dipper's cheek.

 

"You're such a sap," Dipper chuckled, kissing Wirt back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love it when Wirt is a little shit.


	4. Growing Older (Mabel and Dipper)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabel and Dipper have spent 30 years apart and have a much needed bonding moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for 7-Galaxy's on tumblr.  
> I made a relativity Falls thing for it. hope you guys enjoy!

Dipper was pouring himself a cup of coffee when his sister burst into the kitchen. She had her Madam Mystery suit on, light blue blazer and maroon skirt. Her fez sat askew on her head as she walked passed Dipper to the fridge. 

 

“Finally ready to face the day sleeping beauty?” She teased. She reached for a can of pitt Cola.

 

“I was up late doing important research,” Dipper whined. He rubbed his eyes from beneath his glasses. 

 

“And you were definitely not practising poetry at all night?” Mabel teased. She downed half her can in one gulp before taking a seat opposite her brother.

 

“Getting a new hobby  _ is _ research,” Dipper defended. 

 

“Hobby, sure,” Mabel smirked, her voice thick with sarcasm.

 

“Don’t you have tours or something to be holding?” 

 

“Just finished my last one for the morning. Next set of suckers doesn’t arrive for another 2 hours.”

 

“You’re not planning on leaving me alone during that time are you?”

 

“You’ve only been back for a week bro-bro. We have 30 years of catching up to do.”

 

“In that case help me out here. I have not properly cooked in 30 years and some pancakes would really fit the bill right about now.”

 

Mabel rolled her eyes while muttering something about lazy bones. She walked over to the cupboard and pulled out the sugar flour and pancake mix. “You want chocolate chips in yours?” 

 

“Like when we had them as kids?” Dipper asked. 

 

“‘Cept with less burnt pans and upsetting Ma and Pa.” Mabel grinned. She hard poured the ingredients into the bowl and started mixing. “Dipper be a good little brother and get me the milk.”

 

Dipper rolled his eyes at the false ‘old-ladyness’ in her voice. He opened the fridge and took out the milk and eggs for her. “You were going to ask for these too weren’t you?” he said. He placed the carton of eggs on the counter next to her bowl.

 

“I was hoping to ask you to get it later. Get some more practise out of my old-lady voice,” Mabel said. She opened the carton with one hand and cracked an egg on the edge of her bowl.

 

“I’d rather not,” Dipper rolled his eyes.

 

“God you’re still as much of a buzz kill as ever huh?” Mabel poured some batter into a pan.

 

“Your schtick works on tourist because they don’t know any better. I’d rather pretend that I didn’t miss thirty years of watching you embarrass yourself.” Dipper said smugly.

 

“You say that like I haven’t matured,” Mabel pouted. She cracked another egg against the bowl and added it to the mix.

 

“Just yesterday the twins and I had to pull you away from getting in a fist fight with an eight-year-old,” Dipper said. He walked over to the cupboard and took out two bottles of syrup.

 

“She was reaching for the last packet of smile dip!” Mabel whined. “I haven't had any since we were teens!”

 

“For good reason,” Dipper said. He chuckled at the memory of a preteen Mabel, with what could only be described as a sugar-hangover, sitting over the toilet and puking for an hour after having a binge of smile dip after their announced cancellation.

 

“I’m a responsible and sensible older woman now Dipper. I don’t let myself get overdosed on silly things like sugar packets.” Mabel said. 

 

“Yeah sure, when you start acting like that I’ll believe it.” Dipper pushed his glasses up his nose while rolling his eyes.

 

“My own brother? Lacking faith in me? Times are getting so hard on girls like me. Why, back in my day-” 

“Back in your day as in ‘40 years ago’ or ‘back in my day’ as in fifteen minutes ago where you convinced a family of four that buying every shirt you had in stock was a good investment despite how moth bitten they were?” Dipper cut her off. 

 

“I’ll have you know that it was only half my stock, and how dare you call me out on my favorite joke before I told it?” Mabel said. She turned on the stove to preheat before adding chocolate chips to the pancakes mix.

 

“You’re in your 60’s and you’re still pulling that?” Dipper asked, his jaw slack.

 

“It’s a classic for a reason nerd,” Mabel smirked.

 

“Please tell me you had some level of mercy on the kids,” Dipper said. Mabel gave him a knowing smirk. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

 

“60 years and my flame of sass is still roaring!” Mabel boasted. She laughed maliciously as she poured the batter into the pan.

 

There was a quiet lull as the pair waited for the pancakes to cook. The sound of the sizzling batter filled the air and the sweet smell of too-sugary goods filled their noses. Dipper could remember the way Mabel would stand on a footstool that reached her knees to reach the stove, wearing their father’s apron that easily reached the floor. Her declarations of every newly meal being her best work yet, despite the unhealthily high sugar content making them all taste the same. Dipper couldn’t help the somber laugh that built up in his chest. 

 

“What’s the matter?” Mabel asked. She set two plates of pancakes on the table before sitting opposite her brother. “You look more down than Soos does when he forgets his lunch at home.”

 

“I was just remembering how much I miss this,” Dipper said. “30 years ago I was lost in the expanse of the multiverse and didn’t think I’d be able to get home. Hell I thought I’d never be able to settle down after all of that. But here it is. Here’s you, the twins, the house. It-it’s a bit hard to believe it.”

 

“Well you better get used to it soon,” Mabel said. “The anklebiters outside are gonna latch onto you real fast.” SHe offered her brother a gentle smirk before picking up a bottle of syrup for herself.

 

“I think one already has,” Dipper spied Ford through the kitchen window. The young boy’s nose buried in tattered and torn blue journal that Dipper knew all too well. He could still remember placing the golden pine tree symbol on the front.

“Well hurry up and eat,” Mabel said. She popped the cap of her syrup bottle before thinking for a moment. “Hey Dipper, wanna do a syrup race? For old time’s sake?”

 

“Only if you’re ready to lose,” Dipper smirked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was nice. I originally was going to have Stan and Ford crash the scene between Dipper and Mabel, but I forgot to add that in.   
> But that aside, who do you think would have won syrup race? My money's on Mabel, she's had plenty of time to practise against the Stans.


End file.
